


Consent to an Arrangement

by junko



Series: Chasing Demons [13]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a series of misunderstandings with his Third Seat, Renji has a harrowing encounter with Masama Kuchiki, Byakuya's family's matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consent to an Arrangement

Even though Renji arrived to the prearranged check-in with minutes to spare, the Third shot him a look that could only be described as glowering.

The day had turned hot and stuffy, summer’s last big push before turning to autumn. It was the kind of weather that made dust stick to the skin without any effort. After ducking in the door, Renji perched himself on the windowsill for the breeze. It also afforded a pleasant view of the practice yard below. The sounds of drills drifted up in the heavy air. 

Trying to sound casual, Renji tried a pleasant sort of, “Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” the Third snipped. He irritably shuffled the papers on the desk. “I know you’ve broken confinement. I just don’t know what to do about it since the captain clearly approves. Exactly who are you sleeping with over at Kuchiki manor anyway?”

“Oh! Uh,” Renji could feel the blush creeping up his collar as he floundered. “Well. Um.”

The Third watched him with a mixture of horror and exasperation. “I knew it. I just knew it! What I can’t figure out, is why the captain puts up with…” his eyes widened as a thought seemed to hit. “Oh, holy crap, it’s Rukia, isn’t it? Is that why there’s a nakōdo at the estate? My god, Renji, you could retire on a dowry like that!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down,” Renji was on his feet. His hands waved in the air to ward off the onslaught of misunderstanding and misinterpretations. He started to formulate a response, but what came out was, “Wait, there’s a what a the estate?”

“The family matchmaker,” The Third explained. “As you’re well aware from her past visits, we usually have to provide security detail for her entourage, but the Lady Kuchiki didn’t bring candidates along this time. I thought that was odd, but now I understand—she’s here to negotiate your contract! Have you had your interview yet? Are you and Rukia actually doing all the courting screens? That must be… hilarious.”

Renji had to agree it probably would be. He was hardly the sort to sit on the far side of some sudare to wait for Rukia to let him come closer. They’d dug around in garbage together—not to mention how unashamedly they’d changed into any new clothing they could steal. “No,” he said. “Listen, you’ve got the wrong impression entirely. Rukia and I aren’t doing any of that. In fact, nothing even remotely like that is even in the works.”

“Oh?” The Third sounded a little disappointed and disapproving. “Well, I’m sure the nakōdo will want some formality. Rukia is a Kuchiki now, you know. You’re going to have to learn how to play some of their games, Renji. Otherwise they won’t think you’re treating her right.”

Renji frowned at the admonishing tone in the Third’s voice. “I treat her just fine.”

The Third shook his head and all but clucked his tongue. “All I’m saying, lieutenant, is that things are going to have to change if you marry into that family.”

“I’m not marrying anyone, especially not a Kuchiki,” Renji said, settling back against the window sill grumpily. “Trust me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Just because you have no family connections doesn’t mean you wouldn’t qualify. If the captain has invited the nakōdo to interview you, it’s serious.” The third tapped the brush he’d been using against his lips, “Though I could see her insisting on a long courtship, that’s for sure. Maybe hoping given enough time some manners might rub off on you.”

“Oi! Enough! Listen, the matchmaker is here to visit her sick nephew, not interview me,” Renji said. “Can we get off this subject now and talk about what’s going on in my division please?”

#

Renji managed to get out of the office sometime before noon. However, no matter what he said, he couldn’t convince the Third that he wasn’t marrying Rukia. So, he eventually gave up and let him believe it. It wasn’t such a horrible rumor, as such things went--though he felt a bit guilty using Rukia to cover his dalliances with her brother.

He tried not to think too hard about that. After all, right now he was on the trail of some other gossip he’d picked up in the practice yard. 

The lights were so dim in the office of the Third Division that Renji thought for sure the word that Kira was back must have been premature. He was about to turn to go when he felt a heavy, somber reistsu emanating from somewhere inside. Then, Renji spotted him. Despite the brilliant sunshine of a fine summer’s day just outside, Kira sat at the lieutenant’s desk in the far corner with the shades drawn. He must have seen Renji’s head in the doorway, but he’d said nothing. Not even a word of acknowledgment.

Renji’s shoulders drooped with a sigh. “Fuck, Izuru.”

Despite the clear lack of invitation, Renji walked into the office and pulled up the shade. Kira winced at the sudden light. “Please, Renji. Leave it.”

No. That had been his mistake before. Renji put a heavy hand on Kira’s shoulder. “Get up,” he said in a tone that brooked no arguments. “We’re going out for something to eat.”

Kira’s voice was shaky, “I can’t.”

“You can,” Renji said, giving the far-too-thin shoulder a strong, encouraging squeeze. “It’s just lunch.”

#

Kira didn’t say much during the entire walk, but Renji didn’t expect him to. At least he kept his head up. His lips were thin, however, and Renji hated the dark circles under Kira’s eyes which seemed to be a permanent part of his features now. 

Renji filled the space between them with talk of the Soul Society, the weather, and his upcoming birthday. When Kira seemed lost at what to choose from the street vendors, Renji handed him a bowl of noodles. “With octopus,” he said, thrusting it into Kira’s hands, “Comfort food. You used to make a beeline for the cart any time we had off from Academy or went over the wall.”

“You remember?”

Renji nodded, paying for a second bowl for himself as well. “Sure, my head is full of all sorts of stupid trivia like that. I can still tell you Kenpachi’s favorite color and what day Ikkaku likes to wash his socks.”

“Never?”

“Heh,” Renji said directing them over to a curb, where they could sit and watch the lunch crowd go by, “No, the second Thursday of the month. He’s weirdly anal about it, too. Washing day is a big fucking deal to Ikkaku Madarame.”

“And Kenpachi’s favorite color?”

“He’ll let you it’s blood red, but he’s just trying to scare people when he says that,” Renji said taking a slurp of noodles and chewing the crisp radishes. “But, when he’s drunk, he’ll start going on about this deep purple kimono he once had and how much he adored the look of it. I remember because it made Yumichika kind of fluttery. Yumichika’s been trying to find one like it ever since.”

Kira nodded, though he seemed a bit baffled by it all. At least he seemed to have relaxed a little. 

They fell silent for a while, so Renji decided to forge ahead. “Had an interesting talk with Captain Komamura. Did you know he’s half-zenko? I kind of figured he’d be kistune like yours.”

Bad timing. Kira spat noodle bits all over the front of his shihakushô. 

“So you never saw Gin drunk, huh? Damn it. I was hoping you’d know how many tails.” Renji gave Kira a sidelong glance, and handed him an extra napkin. “You seriously didn’t know? I thought you were sleeping with him.”

Kira gave Renji a gesture to keep his voice down. “I rue the day they get you in the Second’s basement. No one’s secrets will be safe.”

There was no denying that, but Renji shook his head at his friend, “Fuck, Izuru. You didn’t tell them you were sleeping with him? How did you manage to keep that secret?”

“Are you telling everyone about you and Captain Kuchiki?”

Renji looked around guiltily thinking about this morning and the mistakes he let the Third Seat believe. “Well, no, but he’s still around, isn’t he? I kind of need his buy-in, you know what I’m saying?”

“You’re saying he’d kill you if you told anyone,” Kira said. Before Renji could agree, he added sharply, “And I’m telling you that if people knew, it’d kill me.”

#

 

After that somewhat disastrous attempt to pull Kira out of his shell, Renji spent the rest of the afternoon in the training grounds under Sōkyoku Hill. Ichigo, who was hiding out from Kenpachi, joined him for a bit. Neither of them were in the mood to anything other than fight. But, Renji did talk Ichigo into showing off bankai, though that left Renji feeling like Zabimaru was huge and clumsy and awkward. So he stayed on a while after Ichigo got bored, to see if he could come up with ways to counter speed.

So it was much later when Renji made his way back to the estate. Tired and exhausted, all Renji’d hoped to do was steal a quick bite to eat, grab his robe, and find Eishirō in order to beg for permission to get into the sento after hours. Byakuya wasn’t supposed to be free until well after dinner time. 

The last thing he expected was to be ambushed on his way into the kitchen by one Masama Kuchiki, matchmaker extraordinaire. 

She should never have been anywhere near the servant’s entrance. Yet suddenly, there she was, blocking his way in the small yard just beyond the back gate. The only thing Renji could figure was that she’d been lurking near the far edge of the contemplative garden, watching for his approach.

The Lady Masama was dressed in five layers of kimono that looked heavy and hot. The colors were muted greens and browns that perfectly matched the tear-drop shaped jewels dripping from her hair. She pressed a jade-colored, hand-painted fan to her face, as though holding a kerchief to her nose to ward off his smell. She waved a hand to beckon him and trilled out a very insincere, “Hello! Lieutenant Abarai? Oh, I’m ever so grateful to see you here. I thought I might have to venture into the division to find you!”

Heaven forbid.

Renji gave the lady a deep, respectful bow. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

He knew it was far too informal, but there was only one Kuchiki-sama, damn it--and she wasn’t it. She sucked in a breath at the horror of it all, but apparently whatever she needed to talk to him about took precedence over his rudeness.

“I need a recommendation for a tattoo parlor.”

Surprise choked Renji so hard he started to cough. “What?”

She arched a thin eyebrow at his reaction, but continued, “Preferably one inside the walls of the Seireitei, but, regardless, it must be the sort of place a lady could expect fair treatment.”

When he recovered, Renji gave her a long look to try to figure out her game. Finally, he shook his head. “Ain’t no place like inside the walls. You want ink, you got to go out. But, if you’re really keen on getting some body art, milady, I’ll happily escort you personally,” Renji said with a crooked smile. Because, damn, what a story that would make! “What, are you thinking a little butterfly or pink heart or something? That could be cute. I know just where you could put it, too.”

“It’s not for me,” she sniffed. “Byakuya-chan has apparently grown fond of—“she waved her fan in the direction of Renji’s face, “—all that, and I may need to decorate a possible suitor. Speaking of which, I need a list from you of all the eligible female lieutenants and captains.”

“Um… okay, sure,” Renji said, wondering what the hell this was all about. “But, if I can make a suggestion, ma’am? Henna makes a better ‘decoration.’ Ink is kind of permanent.”

“He wants tattoos,” she said firmly. Her fan closed with a snap, and her fists balled at her side. She shook with determination as she spoke. “If I find someone who perfectly matches his requirements he is bound by oath to marry her. If I have to hold her, screaming, under the needle, by gods, I will.”

Ok-ay. 

The fan flashed open again as she pulled herself together with a sharp inhalation of breath. “You will get me my list before I leave this evening.”

Renji shrugged, “No problem.”

“And I may hold you to your offer to act as a bodyguard if the girl should need… embellishments.”

He shook his head. This woman was certifiably crazy. “No captain or lieutenant in the Gotie needs my protection, lady. She can take care of herself. And, while you might be willing to try to make someone go where she don’t want to, I’m not.”

The fan fluttered in annoyance. “I should have known you’d be no help.”

“Look, I said I’ll make you that list. I’ll even give you the name of my favorite horishi. But don’t expect me to be some kind of enforcer for your insane schemes.” _Especially_ , Renji thought, _since I have no idea what the fuck this is even about._ Byakuya marry someone with tattoos? What the hell? Had the captain been hitting the painkillers or something? How high would he have to be to agree to something like that?

“Very well. Be sure to print legibly,” Masama said, and then she gave him a look of pure distain down the bridge of her nose—which was difficult given how closely they stood and the height difference. “Perhaps you should dictate to the steward?”

Renji crossed his arms in front of my chest, and frowned down at her with all the fierceness he could muster. “You’re trying my patience and blocking my access to food. If you want anything from me at all, you’d best get out of the way, ma’am. Now.”

He was satisfied by the terrified little squeak that escaped before she could stifle it and her hurried steps as she retreated across the courtyard swiftly. 

 

#

When Renji slid open the door the kitchen finally, Miki, the tea boy, Yuu, and Eishirō nearly fell onto him. They’d pressed their ears so hard against the wood they didn’t have time to react.

Without missing a beat, Miki pulled him over to the large counter she used for chopping vegetables and started piling food around him. She put down a big steaming bowl of chicken-and-egg donburi, several bowls of pickles, and a huge plate of dried sweetfish. Clearly, a bribe in exchange for gossip. He gave her an ‘I know what you’re up to’ glare, but dug in anyway. 

Yuu, the tea boy, sat across from him, his hands in his elbows. He stared at Renji with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

“It’s impressive how thick your accent gets in the Lady Masama’s presence. I suppose you do that to purposely annoy her,” Eishirō remarked, from where he leaned near the hearth, sipping a bowl of tea. 

Renji nodded, though he hadn’t really done it intentionally. The accent tended to come on strong when he felt belligerent…or cornered. The Lady Masama seemed to bring out both.

Eishirō looked tired. A few strands of his long, dark hair had slipped from their usually perfect braid and fell onto narrow shoulders. “I would, of course, be happy to make that list for you, lieutenant.”

“I’ll write it in my own hand, thank you very much,” Renji said a little sharply. He’d be damned if he’d let that woman get the impression he couldn’t do it himself. “I didn’t graduate in the top of my class by never learning how to write.”

The tea boy gulped in a huge breath of surprise and clasped his hands in front of his mouth. Yuu could have been a younger version of Eishirō though his hair was shorter and styled in a cut that covered half his face. Renji wondered in fact if they were related somehow. A younger brother… or a son?

“I told you so,” Miki said to Yuu as she brought over another plate of pickles. 

Yuu’s blue-green eyes were wide. “So it is true! I can’t believe she stood there the whole time and never guessed.” 

“To be fair, neither had either of you before I explained the irony,” Eishirō said with a touch of distain and another long sip of tea.

“The irony of what?” Renji asked.

“His lordship made a very foolish bargain today,” Eishirō explained around another sip of tea. “The Lady Kuchiki has pestered him for decades for a list of qualities he would prefer in a partner. He thought to be clever by naming yours to a tee. I think he may have underestimated his aunt’s willingness to cheat.”

With the chopsticks half-way to his mouth, Renji paused. He set the rice bowl down. “Byakuya named me as his perfect partner?”

“Well,” Eishirō said with a raise of eyebrows worthy of any Kuchiki, “He listed your qualities, and there, my dear lieutenant, is the rub.”

#

“Were you high?” Renji asked Byakuya when the captain had finally woken from his nap. He was now sitting up in bed eating a bowl of donburi. It was the same chicken-and-egg concoction that Miki had served Renji earlier, but from where he stood near the foot of the bed Renji could smell the added spices--curry maybe, and some chili powder.

Byakuya shot Renji a barely restrained glare. 

“And, holy shit, how ugly is that kimono?” 

To that, Byakuya’s expression softened to a little smile, “Incredibly.”

Renji decided the problem with the kimono wasn’t what was inside it—because Byakuya looked as handsome as ever, more so, having just woken up from a nap. Inky hair spilled over Byakuya’s regal features in a tousle that just make Renji’s fingers itch to smooth and arrange them. No, the captain remained ever peerless. The problem was that the shiny fabric of the kimono was… distracting. The shimmering blue-green kept pulling Renji’s gaze away from the captain’s face to stare, in horror, at the hot pink splashes of butterfly. To actually make Byakuya unattractive was an unspeakable crime. “We’ve got to kill that thing,” Renji said with determination. “It’s evil.”

Byakuya held up a sleeve to allow the fading light to dance across it. “I’m not so sure. It may be my lucky kimono now, if I can get Auntie Massy off my back for a while.”

Renji shook his head. “You’re in big trouble if Matsumoto decides she’s up for a trip to the tattoo parlor.”

“Her hair is too golden. I would classify it as orange, or possibly strawberry blond.” Byakuya delicately nibbled a bit of chicken. Renji watched, amazed that the captain could get enough to eat without ever picking up the bowl. “I will win this on technicalities. Your hair is a difficult color to match.”

“And what’s your plan if the auntie figures out you meant me all along?”

“There is no fear she'll force us to wed, Renji. She’d never approve of anything so non-traditional. I specifically stated that she would have to consent. As she will never agree to such an arrangement, I believe I’m safe.”

“For now,” Renji grumbled, settling himself down on the bed. He was careful not to upset the tray as he leaned back against the foot board. “I wouldn’t put it past her to start combing the Academy for likely candidates.”

Byakuya nodded. “Indeed. But, it will be many years before such a person could rise in the ranks, and as a captain, I could pull strings to make sure she never advances to lieutenant.”

“Whoa. You’d play that dirty?”

“And why not? If my aunt can, so will I.”

Renji let out a long sigh. “I guess you’ve got it all figured out. Now we just have to do something with that unsightly thing you’re wearing.”

Byakuya set his chopsticks in their holder. “I believe I was promised teeth.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay in continuing this story.


End file.
